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by elziebean1000
Summary: Welcome to the Tombs alternative scene.


_I'm so not okay with what happened. I curse what happened with the passion of a thousand burning suns (God dammit Mazzara!), so even though I've been neglecting my fics recently because my dissertation is due in a few weeks (I'M SORRY), this is my attempt to rectify the crappy decision that was made for Andrea._

* * *

Andrea forced herself to concentrate on the pliers in her hand and the handcuffs restraining her wrists. She knew from experience that she had a few minutes before Milton's reanimation was completed. She bit back a cry of pain as the pliers dug into her cut wrists, the bloody evidence of the captivity that felt like weeks, which in reality had only been a matter of days.

A soft, gurgling moan stilled her hand and her eyes darted to the body of her friend, slumped against the wall where the Governor had left him. The twitchy movements of the walker's, _Milton's_, head sent a wave of terror down Andrea's spine. _She needed to get out of there._ Not only for herself, she needed to get out of there to help her friends; the people who had helped her to survive in a world that shouldn't even exist. _Her_ _family_

Clenching her teeth, she went back to her task. "It's okay. It's okay. It's okay." She whispered to herself, trying to force her hand to steady itself long enough work one side of the tool underneath the chain of her shackles. "Fuck." She hissed, the pliers slipping and cutting into her already throbbing wrist. She blew away the loose stands of hair that had fallen from her ponytail and looked over to Milton, relieved to see that other than the occasional twitch he was relatively motionless.

It was ironic really. Milton had spent weeks, _months_, trying to prove that there was some shred of humanity left in those _things_, was so positive that somewhere inside them there was still a glimmer of the people they had always been. And now he was to become one. She didn't want to see him turn, not like Amy. More than that, she didn't want him to become a mindless creature whose only purpose in life was to crave human flesh. That was no way for a gentle soul like his to exist, if it could be called that. He had tried to help her, in his own way, and while she couldn't save his life, she could save his humanity. "Or I would if I could get myself out of these fucking handcuffs." She growled savagely to herself.

She almost cried out in happiness when moments later she managed to get the angle of the pliers _just right_ so the tool slid to cover the chain of the handcuff. "Now for the hard part." She breathed, squeezing the handle as hard as she could, which, due to her already weakened state and the way the angle strained her hand, was not hard enough.

Her heart leapt to her throat at the sound of another throaty groan and the scuffling of a foot being dragged across the floor. "Shit!" she didn't need to look at her deceased friend to know what was happening. Her already limited time was quickly running shorter. The sound of her harried breathing and her own blood pumping in her ears was nearly enough to drown out the unsettling noise of Milton climbing unsteadily to his feet.

"_Come on_, you son of a _bitch_!" she pressed harder on the pliers and felt the silver metal give way. She wasted no time in moving to her other hand as the shell of her friend continued to shuffle closer; his dull, clouded eyes fixed on her, blood dripping off his outstretched fingertips. A panicked cry escaped her lips as she forced the pliers to close around the other chain, pressing as hard as she could and silently thanking the adrenaline that was no doubt coursing through her veins when the chain snapped.

She barely had chance to scramble out of the chair before the walker was upon her, undead hands grasping tightly at her arms in their bid to find human flesh. She pushed him back with her forearms, moving her foot behind his to send him tumbling to the floor. The strength of his grip on her arms and the weight of his body pulled her down with him as he fell, and for a moment Andrea was stunned.

The feeling of Milton's cooling fingers wrapping around her neck snapped her from her daze. _This is it _she thought as the walker's mouth pressed against her shoulder, _this is how it ends._ She adjusted her grip on the pliers in her hand and slammed it as hard as she could into the back of Milton's head, the force of the blow reverberating through to her aching shoulder. With a heaving push, Andrea rolled Milton's body away from her to let it lie beside the dentist's chair. She retrieved the pliers and brought them down again, just in case.

The tears bubbled to the surface before she knew what was happening, wracking sobs heaved her tired, aching body, days worth of pent up emotions releasing themselves in a tidal wave of tears that Andrea was too tired to try and stop. She cried; for herself, her family, Milton, the people of Woodbury, she even cried for the Governor, for what he had _become_.

When the sobs finally faded to hiccups, Andrea used the last of her strength to pull herself to the door. She leaned against the wall and briefly wondered what would become of her. Would she die in this hellhole as the Governor had intended or would someone find her? She snorted to herself. The only person, other than the Governor, who even knew she was even still in Woodbury was lying dead not five feet from her.

She closed her eyes and took a deep, soothing breath. Time would tell.

* * *

The sound of the door scraping against the floor as it opened woke her. She forced her eyes open and peered cautiously at the doorway. She smiled faintly at the sound of her name; if she her body wasn't in so much pain, she would have sworn she was dreaming.

"Mich?" her friend rushed to her side and pulled Andrea to her, cradling her bruised body against her like you would a child. Michonne carefully touched her face, brushing her hair away from her eyes.

Heavy footsteps drew Andrea's eyes away from her friend and back towards the doorway. Her smile grew as Rick and Daryl stepped through looking as tired and battered as she felt. "About time you got here." She grinned at them.

"You alright?" Rick asked, crouching down in front of her.

Andrea shrugged and moved uncomfortably against Michonne's hold, "Been better."

Michonne brushed her hand across Andrea's forehead again and frowned. "You're burnin' up."

Andrea nodded and lifted her hands. She pulled her sleeves back to expose the deep cuts on her wrists and grimaced. "The handcuffs were too tight, I think they're infected." She said.

Rick tipped his head to the sight and motioned to her left shoulder, "What's that?"

Andrea glanced down at the blood on the woollen lining of her jacket and frowned. "It's not my blood." Her eyes drifted to the corpse in the middle of the room. Rick looked over his shoulder to follow her gaze, eyeing the red stain the covered Milton's lips and chin.

"Close call." He murmured, reaching forward to pull the jacket away from Andrea's neck, allowing his fingers to pass over the unmarred skin.

"You have no idea." She replied stiffly. She caught Rick's eyes and looked at him squarely. "Can we go home now?" she whispered, her voice catching.

Rick's mouth twitched in the beginning of a smile. "Yeah, we can go home."


End file.
